Backyard Boys - 10K Lyrics

I can go hop in the studio, f*ck with the beat, but I ain't never gon' f*ck with a thot
Yo bitch say I'm a savage, I bet she gon' give me that hair and she do it a lot
Foreign cars and I'm flying PJs, f*ck what he, say I'm fly as a flock
Bitches always in my DMs, I don't wanna see them, f*ck them and kick them out the spot
Chop it up like a sensei, backyard boys we get paid
Take a lil' off your top, no ten fade, f*cked up cup lookin' like ten k
What's that on my wrist, oh ten k, AP bright, need a lampshade
Run up with a stick like a relay, f*ck around, have his block like D-Day
My life's a movie, never with rubies, my diamonds threeD and your shit is twoD
I'm stayin' Louis, Don't f*ck with Gucci, me vs the world, I'm feelin' like Uzi
Key to the streets, bitch, I'm feelin' like Lucci, dirty as f*ck, my cup mix like a smoothie
I'ma go get to that jewelry, I just want that treasure, I'm feelin' like Monkey D. Luffy
We smoke hemp like Wiz Khalifa, everyday I spend a lot with the Visa
She wanna f*ck, tell her bye like Felicia, left her confused, she up in the ether
Patek on me, I don't f*ck with Geneva, speakin' of that, I don't f*ck with you either
Heard you a bitch in that room, you a speaker, just like D. Cole, well give him the heater
Pull up on me and the gun, get the clapin', you is a bitch, so stop with your bragging
Talkin' that shit and your head get to cracking, you and your boys dead bodies we Dragging
F*ck with the gang and you play with your life, feelin' like Myers, I stay with the knife
F*ckin' around and I'm takin' your wife, three hundred and forty-three bitch, you know That we strive
Not with the drama, that boy's a bitch, yeah he is a snitch, oh yeah, he talk like Gunna
Come get your bitch, she stuck like a tick, she keep askin' me for the number
Gun got a switch, it's matchin' the fit, oh damn, that boy is a runner, leave his ass six feet Under
I might turn up for the summer, layin the pipe like a plumber
Then I take off in a Hummer, catch his ass slippin' like butter
We coming back for rebuttal, the shit that I do is not subtle
We leave his ass in a puddle, your bitch comin' over to cuddle
Floatin like butterflies, sting like a bee, y'all just like dead flies, y'all bitches weak
I got a deadeye, shoot with the beam, give him the sky hook, she like Kareem
You on the bench, you don't play for the team, bitches are Nat's, they actin' like fleas
My gun is Crisco, pop him like grease, Ron Artest, I'm keepin' the peace
All of my music go dumb like Jim Carrey, get to the bag and the fast like I'm Barry
I done done somethin', you checkin' my balance or somethin', I bought a new Patek or Some
Aim at your top like a barber, you keep on doubtin' on me, that's gon' make me go harder
Bank account bout to get larger, water on my neck and I don't have room for a harbor
I'm bout to go to the stu and then hop on the beat with the boys and you know I'm a slide
Got a foreign car with a bad bitch to my right, I know she hoppin' inside
My girl too damn fine, if you f*ck with her, I'm hittin' you straight in your eye
Might tell a joke, but I won't lie, backyard boys on the beat, we do this every time
I can go hop in the studio, f*ck with the beat, but I ain't never gon' f*ck with a thot
Yo bitch say I'm a savage, I bet she gon' give me that hair and she do it a lot
Foreign cars and I'm flyin' PJs, f*ck what he, say I'm fly as a flock
Bitches always in my DMs, I don't wanna see them, f*ck them and kick them out the spot
Chop it up like a sensei, backyard boys we get paid
Take a lil' off your top, no ten fade, f*cked up cup lookin' like ten k
What's that on my wrist, oh ten k, AP bright, need a lampshade
Run up with a stick like a relay, f*ck around, have his block like D-Day